Nacho Type
An odd thing happened to me today...as I sat in the center of yet another mysterious "grass circle". Three insects visited my world, small though I had made it. The butterfly, the charm of the year, lifted my eyes to the horizon once again. The bee continued the fateful doledroms of planning a violent coup with alien technology rival to the old queen's. And, of course, our old friend the discriminated, pacifist fly was ensnared once again by the ever enticing "light". I buzzed myself a leg or two. They didn't notice the circle, themselves being a part of it.
My three latest grapefruits acosted me roughly. How was I to know they were normal? Now, NORML I could deal with, but these were intent on geeking me back onto gravity: gravely with feeling, booming to the moon to the sun on it's run back to the simplist tune, one hum quite oft' come streaming down the trees like nobodies Pooh pajamas.
Cranberry sauce prounced merrily into the fray by tea time, galavanting about with a beutifully chromed weapon of extra-terrestrial origin. He smiled upon me many a current, middle-loading my thing king machine with it's infinate spokes a pokin' out about the edges of the eyes, warm with an arid moistness. I'm not sure what your sneakers might make upon passing that little movement.
Glancing around, I see you again. Your putrescence glows from within me, green against my blue clouds in a sky of morticioust artificial wood grain. It looped me to remember why it hurt there. Elsyways, no red, no dead, head? It calls when you'd least expect it. Just float...down...
Blink?
Water like trees could not ask but one cup of almost honey fiddle,
with friends beneath power who think none a worry to listen,
perhaps only to wake their dark timely music.
be 
leave
WARNING! DON'T PANIC!
WARNING! DON'T PANIC!
WARNING! DON'T PANIC!
WARNING! DON'T PANIC!
WARNING! DON'T PANIC!
WARNING! DON'T PANIC!
WARNING! DON'T PANIC!
WARNING!
blunt
the grass recedes gently
along
the sugar fields
she watches slowly
as we
look down
i notice clouds
pierce nightly
preminitions
i locate mirrors
see my fate
mercy, mercy,
bring my cow
now oft' times
to've opened soap
just to find
the spirit rising
freshly substitute
coat dope
i find the diamonds
cool and steaming
aptitude
i'd hardly miss,
flying off in wide abandon, hoping larry knows i'm gone.
goodmorning eggdirdle
twice removed i saw the glimmer, saw the shadow on the pavement, read
the letter in the lunchbox, in the birdhouse, on the road. the night i
will remember in the darkness, in the shadow as i turn the pages
clockwise, see the phantom on the wall. the resivoir incites me, sticks
it's needles in my glue, you see the flicker light my candle, send my
colors into Fall. the enema is rainbow colored, variations stalk,
inspire me, connect and tingle, web in focus, location nowhere open
cantalope, i saw the monster, i saw the rude rind, i closed that door
and trudged along the carousel.
once i saw the error i never saw the night again. once i saw the
mirror i never saw the face of men. look across the void, look into the
meat, see the absance synth, feel the heat. one ticket is not enough.
three mirits the negative, tough. roll around in carpet bags my
precious little worm fiend, licking up the notice of regular customers
crawling in the dirt of a thousand ecstasies and i lathered her with all
i could to notice the buster the night sticking me up for green back
fruit change martyr munchies in the delegate of cream puff garden
hooisery lampry feeling entropy lampoon doggy hard flat crayfish bomb
crank oil slick me with walrus good god the frank sauce.
-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-Boo!
mushpuppy
We introduced ourselves as Larry and Moe. Knowing not quite where
wee'd come from. I opened a bag so they could see for themselves. The
tomatos incased us in frieght, but we knew them not. They led us
through doorways, through walls between out and in; we flourished
dramatically. The sights reflected fantasmagorphically and aflicted
with glass, cut and blown from the floor of my room with the
reverse-puff cleaning action of 23x scrubbing bubbles, independantly
variable as red cream pie laughing in my hair when she touched me,
opened my eyes to catipillars and hedghogs hiding behind ternips that
felt there and made real.
I always remembered the socks I found cleaning the attic that day.
They looked at me as if to say, "Pardon the roof, but we actually sock,
if you buzz me properly with your endings." I jumped at the thought of
asking them for autosodiographs, but opted for the lonely vegitative
covering of Dr. Spock, behind a door of absolute black, as you surely
can recall. What's that sleuth done with my tastebuds lately. God, I
miss my puppets. Oi, pipe, wait for me!
He couldn't find his hat, so he made his own. He didn't quite know
what to do with it! He eventually began working more and more on it,
putting on additions and incorporating bits from here and there, and
nowhere. It soon became a world in it's own right, his own place to
live and breathe. And then one day he took it off. It seamed a long
way down, fraught with beans and streams aplenty. It ended up being
worth any loss though, as he turned and saw it from without, from the
ground that assalted his souls with gravity. And it's glory shone,
floating there like some astaroidial castle of hodge-podge. He then saw
other hats about it, orbiting it as, yes, it orbited them as well. But
they all tied fast to the ground, like his own feet now. As gravity
showed him why and how, he no longer held his captivity against Mary,
but loved her more in her place. The glass showed him more: the world
of the bunnies coming to an end, the races at war within his hat,
existance through the eye of a bagel. It explained a lot in a language
any fluff can easily understand: polar penguin expiditions to the
Atlantic in leauge with sea mammals in search of thier island, the
bubbles, the whirlpool; where had it gone? Flow showed them all a light
within the most twisted darkness he could inflict, even upon himself.
Zen pen fighting causes cramps only to the mystic foetus needing oiling,
like my owl painted on her bedroom wall in some underground f(e)ather
bus; light blue cheese, of course.
The calm uncovers light. The dream uncovers might. The frame
describes the whole. The mind describes the skull. The moon reshines
the son. The old becomes the young. The night creates the morn. The
day creates the porn. The junk, it gives me treasures. The dull, it
showes me plesures. You bring me more than gold. Your taste becomes
your fold.
Put down your mask and try a mold. Answer the phone if you need
refreshments extra large, in every material, red, gray, or yeller. The
grasshopper child needs another dose!
If you worry too much about getting back, you miss the surprise. The
void reflects the back door to green liver Sundays, so don't forget:
Preticate!
-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-iloveu
Declaration of Interdependence
Forsooth! My lion tamer changes frequency at random intervals, and this disturbs me.
Tragic feet, my slippery one. Allow me to calm you with Middle Eastern whispers.
Ah, the cool breeze of Carbon delights me. You are truly one in ten.
Yes, yes, slip with me into a cold fever of ritualistic ironing and forget your silly
toadstools, for they are naught but silly bubbles, you grape juice humidifier.
But wait, I'm not quite sure that my trousers are ripe with the rubber chickens of
renewed Sports Illustrated subscriptions, and I think you just ran over Lassie, the poor soap
bubble of my pancreas. Maybe we should settle this in Australia, where my head will be
rooted in the seas of antiquity, and we will be allowed unfathomable Cheeze-Wiz.
My unsavory pestilence astounds me with it's grommet-like ordeals of Dr. Scholl's simian
Castor Oil. Seweee, that's the dickens! Let's boil ourselves before we can realize the folly
of our actions.
Simple reptile pusher, these are my friends! You can't just skin them like tulips and settle
their domestic disputes with a few fell swoops of your child like lower appendages, unless
you want the rock stars called on our feeble little ant farm of turnip vending Cadillac
emblem collectors.
Well, well, well, wasn't that just the pleasant one, are we? I'm beginning to doubt your
conviction in the matter. Let's take potato peelers to the concert and set them loose on the
intermediary lap dog top spinners as they open their most delectable mollusks in the
presence of kings and their feces alike.
Senile fishes swim in feces, and so should I, but why not compromise our structural
integrity with soap and influence makeshift mothbutter experiences while simultaneously
filling our notebooks with cream cheese on the matter of table tennis rings rented to satanic,
blind midgets on full moons.
Alas, all of this turbulent mustard cutting and aspirin slurping has resulted in the fanciest
of crayon candle making homeless Tibetans, sans capital glue hunts. I'm afraid I might slam a
few hedgehogs, seeing as I'm silvered and devoid of pants. Let me out of this crazy cricket
house!
Cranberry lacquer, not my eggnog you fiend! You've ruined Christmas, and you did it on
purpose! I'll see you on the marshlands, you Scottish freak! Let slip my melancholy, sport
fishing sheep dog on your latter knee socks and roasted bootstrap slicking Labradors, you
scathing commentary on O.J. Simpson hysteria! You're not an eggplant I could replicate with
sad faith and devotion.
But let me see, I need more budgerigars, as my position calls for immediate, induced
vomiting as opposed to what my Rite Aid lackeys seam to agree is beyond poppy-dermal
contradictions, now with half the dog-like apparati of other leading brands, you slavoring
devotee to gingerbread!
Ooops, I've spilled it all over you, and now you must say it all over again, but this time in
stereo, with Dolby Surround Sound, but with higher pitch to donate a distressed penguin
living in Antarctic darkness without television, or peanuts, or a working knowledge of
thatched huts, unless you count disturbingly large jellyfish, and I know you do so don't even
try to deny it. Have you seen my caffeine?
Your moose and his contemporaries have enlightened me far beyond your mother's belief
system, and I like it frothy, so give me the pistachios, and disregard my true intent, I just
want to be a jumping bean, and your lizards are moist with anticipation, but I'll let you go
now.
Seven for three,
Three for ten,
Target your quantity,
Release the hen,
Select your princess,
And lead the cheese,
Nine out of ten
Blind monkeys agrees.
Don't you contradict my ramen, you stocking stuffer! I've seen your glazed ham, and it is
good. My navel has spoken.
You ornamental candle! You original member of the New Yardbirds! You person in a place
where there are no people at all! I challenge you to reveal your ultimate sandwich making
capabilities in all their glory.
Bread is good for Cheesy Poofs, but I prefer golden Franklin Bars. Slim pizza, Frank!
Sounds delicious, let us art.
Sound.
Free Time Placement Test, Gradually
It's times like these
I can't complain
It seams so right
I can't explain
The sky so clear
The night so young
I hear these words
I've never sung
The trees they show
Thier paths to me
So many ways
To set me free
The rhythm, short,
The method, long,
The stars they show me
This here song
They take me up
On spirit wing
To where all life
Eternal springs
Devoid of hate
Devoid of sorrow
I see no more
Today tomarrow
Now sleep I dread,
That kind eraser,
Reconstituting
My true nature
Residue and
Coffee grounds
And in my lungs
The night resounds
It's fractured call,
It's pretty fun,
It's marked hatred
Of the sun
Transfer interrupted!
low,
My cat tail race,
My breathing slow,
That slow machine
Quite tickled pink
By mind massage
It makes me think
Where do I fit
When fit I not,
When mold I don't,
They in me rot
And waste away
From green to brown
Can't get it back,
Can't fix my frown
And pain and pressure
Matter not
When in the ground
My future saught
For many twigs
And loose kept down,
And change kept loose,
And research bound,
I lose my lake
And drift away,
Too harsh a land
In which to stay
And then I'm gone,
And then I'm gone,
The static comes,
And then I'm gone,
Rivers true
And thoughts decree
No more this mood
Comes over me,
I'm left behind,
I cannot see
The tree, the tree,
Why can't I see?
It's crystaline,
My entity,
They like it not,
They can't find me,
I can't find her,
She's living free
Of my torment,
My inner me,
My drama queen,
My busy bee,
Tripped out the door,
Where could it be?
Techno Sonic Babble
brenza speaks, and so samuel listened for the ungodly cries to end, but they never did, so he finally stood and rested on that mound, that thing which we will not care to speak of more, and let it be known to all of his compatriots that this was the last moment in which he would ocupy this space, and flashing like an unimaginably complex formation of psycoactive lightning bugs he lifted upwards from the wreckage and saught the lighter shades of gray in the sprawling uphevalistic benifits of flowering beating dancing insanity with letters to the regional antilope squad filling the room with troup requests and query ques and now the fancy literature stylings of senor creusou will slide into the mix of sensory manipulations
and let on up for the liberating freedom of youthful scratchinplay marsupials and so i gave him another time spatula and he took it to his friend's house, and they tried it out. much was thier surprise when they found the funk on thier doorstep, and as it lifted them off in to the night, they sighed the sigh of men content with the downpouring light show and the fog and the wet. and the dry. they centered thier reactions around thier newfound reality sperm whales which flew not only through thier skies, but also through thier minds across the infinate, pulsating fields of tesselating ground earth plant field sky cloud vison environment you I and left it all behind and flew flew flew and where did they fly to, you ask me? I'll do better than tell you. I'll show you, if you'll follow. so, here, we pick it up and check it out. anti-orange heater snakes are often seen at this point, but don't let that bother you. Tis only natural that reality turn unrealistic in unreality, now isn't it. Now look at your tongue. Go on , take a good look. No one's watching, DO IT! there, that's better. mine hurts a bit, but i'll not get into why. not proper. anywho, so you disregard the garter snakes and leap, seeing your options diminished to a single point, and that point isn't you. no, it's not me. it's us. we are we, and we are all together, righto? you may experience or excivate tunnels at this point, and that's perfectly normal. After all, a little psychotic syndrome is a natural part of eating eighty-seven truely large and rougish barbarian warriors for breakfast. what, don't look at me. don't touch me, you slimy pink bastard! there's got to be some way out of here. maybe if i use the laundry chute. but it's infested with maggots. I know, that little girls hair. I'll hide in it, catch a ride, try out her kool-aid techniques on my little daemons, and have a logistics paradise trainspotting and sweater hopping. so, how bout them marmosats? have you been keeping up to date on thier latest devolopments in reality testing theory punctuating experience sequencing lime bannana networking does the bass get you creamy like I know it does? does your back door still glow with the footprints of that rat bastard. well, goodmorning honey, cause here's your tea and krimpits and life flashing before your eyes.
there it goes. this is the flash, so flash already. Light them up with your caramel licorice metaphores for space sailing monkeys with large fuzzy yellow bunny slippers and big blue cigars from the Ciguri, not to say you couldn't devise a better plan to do it baby then run with that lemon rind monkeying hemisphere floating somewhere just above my conciousness if I could just jump at a certain angle i'm sure i could have it this is where the effot comes in buddy. this work don't slime itself, get juicy now or i'll lay my hands on far more yeilding flesh puppets yeah sure you will, don't give me that 'tude you fucking flesh-puppet nothingness you have no contol over your situation so i'm comandeering your mind for the good of the movement. bit soggy, but i don't complain, why slimey Bohagers do it all the same, they let on to thier puppies that they've rotten inflame but yesteryear with carcasses and buildings in flame. oh you want a rational thought do you, would that make you feel better? my greatest intent is that you might hear a thing in this that i'm not trying to tell you. do you hear what i'm not saying, man. look. listen. feel. red summer, the leaves unfolding, springing new with multi-hue cream pedistal full puppy podium for all to gaze upon with open veins and so the sun settled down into the vally, had a few kids, a dog, a Chrystler minivan, and visited the folks on holidays, and all was gay GAY? oh shit...and the art of noise brought in a rukus, and the bodies were strewn about the room, can words you write be cloistered cause for violating one's truth with renegades of this atomic aged cheese wizardry and letter running dark side agents at every corner tinkering with how much change you get back at S'leven so i'll reemburse ya, you'll so, but for now go out and break that rukus, or else there'll be no rukus and you'll be beat like your bowl. let's go find us some purple catapillars...fuzzy?...you betcha!
Narf
list bubbles. list crazy bubbles. have you heard about what the yen's doing to the mark? oh, yes, quite ghastly, carrying on like that as if Hitler was still in power. go ahead, girlfriend. find my soap, fix the market with your kind words and soft eyes. i haven't seen your car in a while. have you been good, or has someone reposesed your tires? they say you lost your handbag in a foriegn, arab nation, and when the authorities found it, they called the federation and let them know your lipstick is several shades too bright and the runs in all your stockings would give a mom a freight. point: narf!
The Actions Will Dictate, When Open are Plans
Philangical
Synchronized
Letter open,
Connecting
Razor spine
When counter pointing, blinking, whole, no skin, taking part in illumination at 5:23, can you hear them calling, chanting, wizards of the airwaves, chant, continue, relive life from the other side,
"Paradigm shift."
Following the shifting attention span linking units without letting concious energy interfere on any level like a snake rustlin' up a babe in the bush, know what I mean, sonny?
Freedom,
Random,
Chaos,
Not,
All
Is
Just
A
Noth-
Er
Term
For
All
And
That
And
This
And
Him
And
Her
And
Me
And
You
Or
Me
And
Me
Or
This
And
That
And
Me
And
Just
Liquid custard creamy flowing pure everything EXISTANCE
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| Thee Rev St of Skuzzbunnies, Sr Elgaroo Brenza du sLAcKE
* | * Cytoplastic Ninja Clan, Psychic Enema Division
/|\ elgaroo@13th-floor.org, elgaroo@hotmail.com
/ | \ http://elgaroo.13th-floor.org/
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\/|\/ "In watermelon sugar the deeds were done and done again as my life is done in
watermelon sugar."
